Once upon a time,
The hour was mine.
Without riddims or rhymes,
Dancers sang mimes.
When weakness was wean,
The Gambian soil a bean;
Darkness was governed,
Light misconstrued.
The Atlantic Ocean swelled,
The sky smelled.
Farmers were development tools,
Feeding politicians in schools.
Now that green is exiled,
New parties emerged in textile.
The nation campaigns,
For the celebrations of champagne.
Democracy with indiscipline,
The youth altered their norm line.
Their ignorance posted on timelines,
Happenings in the Gambia bitter like limes.
Like letters in the silent sky,
Except to ask why?
In the past, farming was the answer,
To reduce poverty and hunger.
Despise the pain we've been,
Amongst ants 'n human bees,
Of jinns 'n human beings.
Now the country is naked,
They say speech is freedom:
For fools without wisdom.
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